


you're the one that i want

by jaimelanniser



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 15:59:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12062310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimelanniser/pseuds/jaimelanniser
Summary: Sansa does a bit of karaoke.





	you're the one that i want

The bar wasn’t too full, the crowd stretched out along the edges, fading into darkness, and Sansa was hyped up on three cocktails, which was mainly the reason why she was confidently striding towards the little stage on one side of the room.

She could hear her friends cheering for her from their table, and she shot them a grin as she grabbed the mike from the stand where the previous karaoke singer had just placed it before rushing out of the stage. Honestly, she wasn’t much of a karaoke person; there was something about singing live in front of people that usually terrified her.

But she was a little drunk and feeling bold and Joffrey could go  _fuck_  himself, and she wanted to do something stupid like sing her lungs out in front of a crowd of strangers.

“Alright, let’s do this,” she muttered to herself as she took her spot on the stage where the spotlight shone and blinded her to the rest of the people in the bar, save for a few faces up near the front.

Sansa turned the mike in her hand as she went over to the DJ picking the background tunes and quickly browsed through the list, pointing her finger at the song she wanted to sing before walking back to the front.

Well, there was no going back now.

The first few notes started sounding, and Sansa felt adrenaline pulsing through her veins as she let the music consume her. Perhaps the song was symbolic; she didn’t dwell too much on the fact that her friends would know. But what did it matter, really?

If she wanted to empower herself with Christina Aguilera, then she damn well would.

Not that she could sing Christina Aguilera, but this was a dingy bar in Soho, not the Royal Albert Hall, so these people were going to have to put up with her best shot.

“Well, I thought I knew you thinking that you were true. Guess I, I couldn’t trust, called your bluff, time is up, cause I’ve had enough!”

It didn’t matter, she quickly found, that she wasn’t the best singer, because Sansa was mostly yelling the lyrics, pouring her heart and soul into the song, holding the microphone tightly in her hand, gripping it like it was Joffrey’s skinny little throat and she was choking the life out of him.

The crowd quickly began to cheer her along, and Sansa went with it. She had never actually  _performed_  on a stage anywhere, but she had always been a performer at heart.

The attention was thrilling, the beat pounding from the speakers making her feel powerful,  _wild,_  and she shook her hair out, shaking her hips as she got into, marching from side to side of the stage, pointing at a few people in the crowd as she went along.

_“So thanks for making me a fighter!”_

The mike echoed a bit as the song ended, and Sansa turned her face back down towards the crowd, chest heaving as she ended the song to loud cheers; her friends cheering the loudest of all, but she could see several other people whooping for her as well, and she grinned, laughed, running her hand over her face as she rode out the high of center stage.

And then, “Encore!” someone shouted from the back.

The girls quickly picked it up, banging on the tables. “Encore, encore, encore!”

Sansa was in too deep to pull back, so she cradled the mike in her hands and beamed out at the crowd. “One more?” she teased, getting a cheer in return. She stepped back to the list of songs, flipping through them. “You’ve been such a great crowd tonight,” she kept speaking as she searched. “I want to thank my friends for bringing me here.” A cheer. “My mother, for giving birth to me.” Laughter.

“Oooh!” Sansa piped up and walked back over to the front of the stage. “Who wants to duet with me?” she shouted into the mike.

She could see the crowd of guys near the stage starting to talk amongst themselves excitedly, clapping each other on the back. She smirked in their direction. “Come on, boys. I don’t bite. Take a  _leap of faith,_ ” she whispered into the microphone.

Fuck, she really needed a glass of water.

The men seemed to have picked amongst themselves because before she could speak again, one of them was being shoved forward so hard that he tripped nearing the stage and had to brace himself on it before climbing up.

Sansa eyed him curiously; muscled under a white shirt and black leather jacket, curly hair pulled back into a bun.  _Cute_. She gave him a smile. “Hello, Troy Bolton,” she greeted him.

The guy gave her a sheepish smile, seeming very nervous to be up here. It was very cute that he still  _was_  here and hadn’t run off already. Sansa decided she liked him, so she walked up to him and slung her arm around his shoulders, holding the mike over to him. “So, for the fans: what’s your name?”

“Jon,” he said; his voice was low, gruff, pretty damn sexy if she could say so herself.

“Hi, Jon,” Sansa replied, taking the mike back from him and nodding at the DJ behind them.

Jon looked embarrassed and amused and he took a second mike that somebody handed him from off-stage, but he good-naturedly turned to her. “What are we singing, then?”

“Grease, baby!” Sansa called back, smiling as the music started behind them, rolling her shoulders, and she watched Jon laugh and shake his head, but he started nodding along to the music as well.

She hadn’t known  _what_  to expect from this guy, really. Most men singing in karaoke bars were either wasted or on a bet, and to be fair, this guy could be either or both, but then he opened his mouth to sing and — no, okay, he wasn’t Freddie Mercury or antyhing, but — he got  _into_  it.

Sansa was genuinely shocked into stillness for a moment there, because Jon had grabbed the mike in both hands and given his best Danny Zuko, even running his hand through his hair at  _“It’s electrifying!”_

And so they sang, together, definitely off-pitch at times and certainly neither being an expert but they were going at it, and Sansa was hot all over, sweaty from the lights and the singing and Jon’s presence as he seemingly shrugged off all the self-consciousness that he had at the beginning.

At one point, he literally whipped off his jacket and tossed it at his mates, and Sansa was  _so into him_  that it wasn’t even funny anymore.

They ended the song by singing at each other’s faces, and the bar had become pretty crowded by now — perhaps their singing had attracted people — and they all erupted into loud cheers and wolf-whistles.

The high was still there, and Sansa turned to look out at the crowd with bright eyes, a smile on her face, breathing heavily, then glanced back at Jon to see him much the same as her.

He looked at her too, and his smile was mesmerizing; had he been  _this_  attractive before they’d started singing? They were staring at each other, chests heaving with every breath, their mikes still in their hands, and Sansa felt drunk with it all.

It must have been several minutes, but it honestly felt like  _seconds_  until her back slammed back against the wooden wall of the hallway in the bar, and she tightened her grip around Jon’s shoulders while she kissed him fiercely.

“What’s your name?” Jon suddenly panted into her mouth, breaking away from the kiss to look at her with hooded eyes and genuine interest, and Sansa had to laugh because he’d had his tongue in her throat before knowing her name.

She slid her fingers into his hair, totally messing up his bun, and nipped at his lower lip. “Sansa,” she told him, and tugged him in again.


End file.
